Simba

A moment later, a black crystal emitting a pale blue light appeared above Rutherford's head. Suddenly, Rutherford let out a blood-curdling scream. Monet and the others had no idea what was happening, but Olivier knew it was the agony of a soul being split in two.

Shortly after, a white, crystal-like object flew out from Rutherford's head and entered the black crystal.

Rutherford's soul? In the original texts, souls took on various forms, and Rutherford's soul happened to be this crystal shape, Olivier thought.

A new Rutherford, centered around the black crystal, slowly coalesced. That was Rutherford's divine clone.

A while later, that vast, soul-shaking power receded. Although they had just endured excruciating pain, both Rutherfords were filled with pleasant surprise, still immersed in the sensation of having achieved godhood.

"Olivier, thank you," Rutherford said, bowing to Olivier once he had recovered. If not for Olivier, he did not know how many years it would have taken him to become a god.

"Congratulations, congratulations. Rutherford, this was because you seized the opportunity; if it were anyone else, they likely wouldn't have managed it. Otherwise, I would have made a career out of helping people become gods," Olivier accepted the thanks calmly, though he chuckled as he spoke.

"My Lord, congratulations on achieving godhood," Monet and the others stepped forward to offer their respects.

"Indeed, a dream of so many years has finally been realized. If you all work hard, there is hope for you as well," Rutherford sighed with emotion.

Olivier sneered inwardly. You succeeded, so it's easy for you to talk. It's not nearly as simple for others to become a god.

Having read in the past about people slaughtering gods, Olivier wanted to see just how strong a god-level expert truly was and whether it was possible to kill one, even though in the Coiling Dragon World, god-level beings were considered invincible.

"Rutherford, let us witness the power of a god," Olivier said.

Monet and the others also looked at Rutherford with anticipation.

"Very well," Rutherford said, enveloping everyone with his divine domain.

Olivier felt a tremendous pressure bearing down on him, rendering him unable to move. He mobilized all the energy in his body and his already powerful soul energy, yet he still could not shake Rutherford's divine domain. However, Olivier felt he was almost able to break free; he was just a hair's breadth away.

Olivier gave up on struggling. Even if he could break free, he would be no match for a god-level expert. He decided to abandon the idea of sparring with a god for now; in any case, it seemed there was no opportunity for him to slaughter a god, so focusing on his own cultivation to reach godhood was a more reliable path.

Seeing Olivier trying to break free from his divine domain, Rutherford smiled at his wishful thinking, though he understood the sentiment.

Rutherford retracted his divine domain.

"God-level power is indeed formidable," Olivier remarked, though he felt no envy. He would reach godhood sooner or later, and he would become a god himself.

Not long after Rutherford became a god, to thank Olivier, he was introducing him to some of the magical beasts and experts on the ice plains, with Monet and the others present as well.

Suddenly, a figure appeared right next to Rutherford.

"Rutherford, you've become a god too? You're not much worse than me," a voice rang out.

Everyone, including Rutherford, had failed to notice anyone approaching.

"Cesar! You've become a god, so of course I couldn't fall behind," Rutherford was the first to see the newcomer, and he retorted with a cocky tone. He had dealt with Cesar before and knew how arrogant he could be.

This Shadow Clone Technique of Cesar's is truly remarkable. I didn't sense a thing, Olivier marveled to himself.

"Lord Cesar," Monet and the others greeted.

"Lord Cesar," Olivier said. Although he was very reluctant, he still had to show Cesar some respect for now.

"And this is?" Cesar had never met Olivier, but he sensed that Olivier was no weakling, hence the question.

"This is Olivier. His speed is much faster than yours used to be," Rutherford said. Before becoming a god, among those peak Saint-level experts, only Fane could compare to Cesar in speed.

"Oh!" Cesar was surprised. His own speed had been formidable back then, but now that he was a god and Olivier was merely a Saint, Cesar lost interest.

"Rutherford, let's have a spar," Cesar suggested. The War God and others had reached godhood thousands of years ago, and Cesar didn't have a habit of seeking a beating, so he hadn't fought since becoming a god.

Having finally run into someone who had just reached godhood, how could Cesar let the opportunity pass?

"Fine," Rutherford also wanted to experience a god-level battle.

Cesar and Rutherford stood proudly in the void, a hundred meters apart.

Rutherford's group stood several thousand meters away from the battlefield.

"Who will win, Lord Rutherford or Lord Cesar?" someone asked.

"How could the battle of god-level experts be something for the likes of us to guess?" Monet glared at the man.

Snowflakes danced around Rutherford, and the space seemed to distort.

Around Cesar, it felt somewhat dark, and he himself gave the impression that he was about to vanish.

Suddenly, both men moved.

Rutherford turned into a series of shadows, while Cesar vanished from his spot. Then, the sounds of their clash rang out, shaking the heavens and the earth.

Olivier could feel the immense power radiating from them; if it were him, he would have been reduced to dust already. It seemed that god-level experts and Saint-level experts were truly worlds apart. It was laughable that he had even considered whether a Saint could slaughter a god.

Because Rutherford had just become a god, he didn't have any exotic techniques. Furthermore, having achieved godhood through the Mysteries of Ice, his physical attack and defense were both very strong, so Rutherford simply used a brutal style to confront Cesar.

As for Cesar, he maintained the demeanor of an assassin, constantly launching sneak attacks, but each time, he was met with Rutherford's savage fists.

Suddenly, Cesar split into hundreds of clones, each one striking at Rutherford.

"Rutherford, take this: Shadow Strike!" countless Cesars shouted in unison.

The Shadow Clone Technique is truly miraculous, Olivier thought. I wonder when I will be able to comprehend it.

"Hmph, bring it on!" Rutherford dared not be careless. He defended with all his might while searching for Cesar's true body.

Rutherford finally spotted the real Cesar just as the attack landed, but it was a bit too late. He blocked in a hurry, yet he was still struck on the shoulder by Cesar.

However, the defense of the Mysteries of Ice was indeed formidable. Rutherford didn't suffer much injury, just a scare, as he was sent flying thousands of meters, smashing a massive hole into the ice.

However, this bout was indeed won by Cesar. Rutherford had remained in a defensive stance throughout, and was ultimately knocked away. If it had been a life-or-death duel, the loser might not have been Rutherford, as his defense was exceptionally strong.

Cesar, on the other hand, relied on sneak attacks, though his raw offensive power was not particularly high.

"Rutherford, heh, I won by accident," Cesar boasted.

"Hmph, if I hadn't just made a breakthrough, there's no way you could have won." Rutherford's expression was somewhat unsightly; being knocked back in front of so many people was embarrassing.

"I'm off," Cesar said, and then vanished.

"I'm leaving as well." Olivier could tell that Rutherford was not in the best of moods.

Olivier also transformed into a blur and disappeared into the vast, icy plains.

After parting ways with Rutherford, Olivier prepared to meet other experts on the ice plains and take in the scenery along the way.

According to Rutherford's introductions, Olivier visited many experts across the plains, including both humans and magical beasts. These individuals practiced various Laws and Profound Mysteries, ranging from Wind, Earth, Darkness, and Light to Water, with those practicing the Laws of Water being the most numerous.

Olivier would first spar with them and then engage in deep conversation. Each of these fellows had cultivated for hundreds or even thousands of years and possessed profound insight, allowing Olivier to better understand this world through them.

After visiting dozens of them, including the Ice Bear Misha, Olivier planned to visit the Snow Lion Simba as his final stop before returning to the O'Brien Empire to see Blumer.

Snow Lion Simba's lair was located on the edge of the Northern Sea, at the southernmost tip of the Arctic Ice Plains.

A massive, snow-white lion lay sprawled across an iceberg. Aside from its black eyes and golden claws, its entire body was as white as the snow on the plains—truly magnificent. If it were to shrink down to the size of a cat, it would surely captivate many young ladies.

Olivier suddenly had an idea: he wanted to tame this rogue lion and keep it as a mount for fun.

With Olivier's speed and soul power, as long as he willed it, no Saint-level expert could ever hope to detect him.

"You rogue lion." Olivier waited until he was very close to Simba before speaking up to let the beast know someone had arrived.

Simba leaped up instantly, scrambling backward to locate the source of the voice.

"Who are you?" Simba asked, on high alert. The opponent had gotten so close without him noticing; he wondered to himself if his strength had declined recently.

"My name is Olivier," Olivier said with a chuckle.

"What do you want, disturbing this lion's sleep?" Simba asked impatiently.

"What do I want? Let's fight first," Olivier said. He knew he had to beat the beast into submission; otherwise, there was no hope of taming it. Without further ado, he drew his Mystic Ice Sword and lunged.

"Shameless! A sneak attack!" Simba scrambled to defend himself, narrowly avoiding Olivier's blade, and grew furious.

"If I wanted to sneak attack you, you'd already be dead," Olivier said, his sword moving faster and faster.

"Hell, how is his speed so fast?" Simba couldn't keep up. He was nicked several times, his skin broken.

"Good defense, and decent speed," Olivier remarked, surprised by the beast's durability. At this moment, his speed was reaching its limit—even faster than when he fought Rutherford. If Rutherford hadn't made his breakthrough, he would have been significantly slower than Simba.

It seemed he would need to use some real techniques.

"If you've got the guts, stop relying on your speed!" Simba was frustrated. Since the start, he hadn't even touched Olivier's clothes and had been suppressed the entire time. Simba had never suffered such a loss before.

"Fine, I'll play with you. Ten Thousand Swords Return to Origin." Olivier unleashed one of his signature moves, layering three sword strikes into one.

The Mystic Ice Sword collided with Simba's claws. Simba was sent skidding back over a hundred meters, while Olivier remained unmoved. Simba felt a stinging pain in his claws, and the skin had been broken.

"Heh, how about that?" Olivier laughed.

His speed is so fast, and he can still clash head-on with me. It seems he is stronger than I am, Simba thought.

"I admit you are stronger than me, but I have ultimate techniques too. Don't force my hand," Simba said, though his words were mostly bravado.

"If that last strike had landed on your body, I wonder what would have happened?" Olivier asked.

"Hmph." Seeing that Olivier remained calm and was clearly only using a fraction of his power, Simba didn't want to be beaten further.

"What exactly do you want?" Simba asked.

"Alright, enough talk. I'm missing a mount," Olivier stated.

"You've gone too far! A warrior can be killed, but not humiliated!" Simba roared in anger.

"I could kill you quite easily. Do you admit that?" Simba knew Olivier was speaking the truth and was left speechless.

"Follow me for one year, and I guarantee you will become a God. How about that?" Olivier added.

"Really? Who do you think you are? You haven't even become a God yourself, how can you guarantee that for me?" If he could truly become a God, Simba would have agreed in a heartbeat.

"I have been cultivating for less than sixty years, and I am confident I will become a God within ten. If you don't agree, I will kill you right now," Olivier threatened, unwilling to waste any more time with Simba.

"Fine." Simba was a rogue at heart and lacked much integrity; after weighing his options, he decided his life was more important.

After signing the master-servant contract and taming Simba, Olivier mounted the beast and flew toward the O'Brien Empire.